My daughter turned eight this week. A few months ago there was a wide ranged blackout in our city, and I had taught her a game called “The staring contest”, to pass the time. It’s a pretty simple game; two people face each other and look their opponent in the eye, and the first player to blink loses the game. We had played this game for hours until the power came back on and neither me nor her mother were able to beat my daughter.
Since then, she played the game with everyone around her, whenever she could. She played it with her classmates, her teachers, her mother, me… In the end she became so good that nobody could match her. During times like this, when no one was willing to play with her, she would stand in front of the mirror and play the staring contest with her own reflection, and in the end this became a regular habit. This morning when she ran down the stairs for breakfast, she was smiling. She sat on my lap, and I stroked her hair. “Where were you all this time? Were you playing that game with the mirror again?” I asked her. She nodded, she was smiling:
“Yes Daddy. This time, I won.”
Author: Andrey Fyodorovich Tsoy